Chasing Cars | A Grey's Anatomy Fanfiction

.- T W E N T Y - O N E -.

I begin to sweat profusely, and my hands begin to clammer. Adrenaline rushes through my system. Fight or flight. Up or down. In or out. Dead or alive. My breathing quickens, as it gets softer. He is in the next room. The choices I will make now are split second. The cold floor becomes colder, and all of the colors around me brighten. Calm down. Calm down.

The fog around me becomes less thick, and I grab onto the rail with an unscarred hand, the metal covered in water and sea salt from the bay. I look down at the waves below me, cut off by a green and white metal sheet. People pass by me, and I exhale as my unshaven brunette locks are rustled by the salty air.

Seattle is in the distance, its cubic skyline placed perfectly on the pavement. I see the highways, where cars are chasing one another in traffic, racing to their destination. It baffles me that someone is blazing down the street not taking the morning in. Someone is just so busy and so disconnected that all they are focused on is chasing other cars, not taking in the fresh air, the waves, and everything around you. This life is not a sprint. Time is limited though. So you have to make a choice. Vibrant or dull. Bland or spiced. Down or up. In or out. Truly alive, or dead inside.

A familiar face walks up to the rail, and he turns his head. The familiar raven curls are blown back by the wind, and I look at the icy blue eyes surrounded by the chiseled features of his facial structure.

"I have grown to like ferryboats, too. Calm, dependable, and strong. A floating island of serenity in chaos," I say.

He smiles. "Yes. It is almost like the calm points you to what you want to do. You know already, but it becomes even clearer. The fog parts away. It is a nice feeling."

The chilling tiled floor brings me back to reality.

The leads.

Disconnect the leads.

"April. He wants Derek dead."

"I know," she says sobbing quietly.

"April. I know what to do. Look at me," I whisper.

I pull away the neckline of my shirt, exposing white skin and a blood stained sticky white circle attached to an electrode. I point to it, and act like I am ripping it off. I don't, because that will set off an alarm on the portable heart monitor alerting the guy with the gun in the next room over. The girl next door to me used to rip them off all of the time sending nurses scrambling because it looked like she flat lined.

The operating room probably does not have alarms on theirs. No one to rip them off other than the surgeons and scrub nurses.

"Get someone in there to --"

I pull air next to the wires.

"before he mows down everyone."

I breathe in and out. Ferryboats. I hear the sobbing of Meredith. The voice of the shooter stings my ears, commanding Meredith's best friend to murder her love. I see April try to get the attention of someone without disturbing the hornet's nest of shooters and death. Her tears drip off her face and into the metal sink below her. She ducks down quickly.

Ferryboats.

Calm yourself Ella.

I hear the word shoot and the word me escape Meredith's mouth. Calm is not an option. The world blacks out.

The long beep of the monitor thrusts me awake along I look over to the box, and the number 86 shows up against the black screen. April is sobbing quietly in the corner.

"He shot the gun. I don't know at who," she cries quietly. "We ran out of blood and you blacked out, and now I think Derek is dead."

I am not dead though. Derek is possibly alive. That, or a bullet is in his skull. Choice number two is most likely. Only two choices, dead or alive. I hear the door at the back of the operating room slam as someone walks out, along with the dark noise of a gun reloading. Meredith is yelling, sobbing. Yeah, he is really dead. Really dead.

You would think I would have emotions exploding from my face. I have no more room for emotion. Everything returned to cold. Derek is dead. I might get shot again. Hundreds of lives have been ripped apart. Nothing is going to change that. It is set in stone. Every time I try to fix my crappy life, it never works. Derek is gone. Meredith is dead inside, and I am a sink with an open drain. I am empty, cold, and mindless like those cars on the highway. There is no such thing as a ferryboat filled, joyful, and happy life.

The monotonous beeping of another machine startles me. The bullet hit the wall or some crap and someone played dead. I don't care or want to know how he and every one looks alive. My crappy plan worked? My crappy plan worked.

"He's not dead." I say.

"He is not dead," April replies.

"We are not dead."

"We are not dead," she smiles.

I hoist myself into a nearby wheelchair. I grab on to the edges of the sink, and almost stand enough so I could see through the window into the OR. I could see Dr. Yang holding his heart, supporting it with only her fingers. If you look past the blood and trauma, you see a beautiful miracle of nature. A heart beating, alive, in her palms.

April notices me. "Don't look. You don't need to be freaked out more." She tries to help me back into the chair.

"Wait. Look at Dr. Yang's hands. They are holding his heart. His alive, beating heart. It is a fighter, that heart. A true miracle in all the death surrounding it. She is holding that miracle." I pause.

"There are miracles in this world. You just have to find them."

Meredith pushes through the sliding door.

"Owen was shot."

. . .

Can't I just get a break for once?